Somewhere in the Florida Keys, a quiet island is home to a genetic research facility, a nuclear plant and a community of easily scapegoatable Haitian refugees. If that’s not a recipe for a giant crab attack, I don’t know what is.

This is by-the-numbers post-Piranha nature-in-revolt stuff, presented in amiable, Florida-crafted fashion. The giant crab looks pretty good, the hordes of regular-size crabs are suitably creepy, and I even developed a certain attachment to the crusty Irish saloonkeeper. It’s the sort of thing Bert I. Gordon could be reasonably proud to have inspired, and that’s good enough for me.